


neville/luna

by romanticalgirl



Series: December Ficlets 2007 [56]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-23
Updated: 2013-04-23
Packaged: 2017-12-09 06:43:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/771216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Originally posted 12-9-07</p>
    </blockquote>





	neville/luna

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted 12-9-07

“Intrepid explorers.”

“Lost.”

“Braving new worlds.”

“Lost, Luna.”

“Having an adventure?”

“We’re lost, Luna.”

“I’m surprised, Neville. You’re not normally the dreary type.” She smiles at him, her head tilted just so, so that her hair spills over her shoulder like a candyfloss cascade. The sun manages to slip past the dense leaves around them to land on her hair, a shaft of light that makes is shine. “I fear I shall have to blame Ron. He’s far too good at looking at the wrong side of things.”

“I’ve not seen Ron in a month.”

“Perhaps it’s the absence of him then. You feel as though you need to emulate him. Perhaps you think I’m missing him.”

“Why would you be missing Ron?” Neville frowns, catching her hand before she can start to walk away. “You don’t fancy him.”

“He’s Hermione’s.”

“Which is not an answer.” Neville tugs gently at her hand, turning her around. “Luna?”

“I think Ron is quite lovely.”

“Luna.”

“And we’re not lost.” She tugs on his hand, pulling him down what now can clearly be defined as a path, a stark contrast to the bit of dirt she had attempted to pass off as one earlier. The trees seem to part before her, leaves dancing against her skin as she ducks beneath them. He reaches out with his free hand and plucks a leaf from her hair. 

“Where are we then?”

She pushes past the last of the bushes, guiding them into a clearing. Sunlight fills it, the dark trees that line the rough circle less menacing in its brilliance. She produces a picnic from her pocket, spreading the blanket out on the uneven ground. He watches her unpack treats and drinks and books and music, carefully setting a small vial with several ants inside on its side so they can scurry out and join them. She settles on the blanket and looks up at him. “We’re here.”

Neville nods and sits opposite her, catching her hand in his again. “Of course we are. Where else would we be?”


End file.
